Cheap & Classy (Hide Your Crazy) (3 page)

Chapter 4

No, this is not a “dick in a box”. Okay, well, technically it is.

I really needed to stash this box away on the bus. I was bound to forget it somewhere or drop the bastard, letting the contents spill out for everyone’s viewing pleasure. The last thing I needed was everyone on this tour to know what sick and twisted gift Danielle had graced me with. Come to think of it, I bet this isn’t the first time one of these would have been found backstage. The women that frequented the boys after their concerts probably had one of those bad boys tucked into their purses, considering I doubted they thought round two would ever happen. These guys were a hump em’ and dump them crew, with the exception of Brantley. He apparently decided to put a ring on one of his groupies, and then fuck around with the other half of the population while on the road. Grimacing for the nasty mental thought, I mentally scolded myself for being mean. I knew nothing about their relationship, other than the fact that he decided to play me like a two sided fiddle and I obviously didn’t see past the bullshit covered lies he threw at me. That stupid fucker, making me feel all special and……………………

“Molly?” Megan’s voice
broke my train of thoughts.

“S
orry, I got lost in my own head.” I laughed, turning my attention to Megan walking over with the boys from Pleasure Revenge.

“No worries. I was just going to show these guys to their room. This is Jaxon, Zain, and Michael.”

“Hi, I’m Molly,” I greeted, shifting the cock in box carefully under my arm and extending my hand outward to them.

“Thanks for having us on the tour. We are really excited to be going out with you all,” Zain exclaimed, flashing his pearly whites at us.

“Well, I’m glad you all could join us. It should be a great tour.” I smiled, shifting the box awkwardly to my other side. With all my southern grace and charm one would think I could keep hold of the damn box. But no. Right as I was about to turn and say something to Megan, the stupid thing went crashing to the floor, spilling the contents on the cement. Megan let out a little gasp while my eyes grew about five times the size of normal.

“Um…………..I think you dropped this?” One of the band members bent down, smirking as he held it out for me.

“Ha ha, yep,” was all I managed to say while grabbing the stupid kit from his hands. A collective chuckle came from the other band mates as I stuffed the thing back into the box and awkwardly smiled, stepping around the group.

“Hush,” Megan threatened as I walked away.

Shaking my hand over my shoulder in a half ditched effort of a goodbye, my lips pursed and my heart continued to spasm. That dirty little secret was now out in the open. Manager Molly was walking around with a dick mold in a box. Absolutely wonderful.

I quickly scampered out of the venue and back on to the bus. Brantley, Eric, and Jeremy were still glued to the damn Xbox while my eyes darted around the room to find a safe stashing place for the unmentionable item. Stepping over sprawled out body limbs, I opened the oven and tossed the culprit in, slamming the door a little harder than I realized.

“Shit
, Molly, what did the stove ever do to you?” Jeremy piped up, his eyes still glued to the screen.

“Oh stuff it
, Jer. Meet and greet is in an hour, boys.”

“Okay,” they mumbled, still
completely entranced by that damn shooter game.

“So, I’m guessing
you all should clean up and get ready. I doubt any of the girls would service you if you smell the way you do now,” I called out. Shuddering, I made my retreat back over the body parts and headed for the stairs. I knew damn well those boys could smell like a rotten garbage can and girls would still drop their panties for the rats. Nasty smelly boys and dirty no self-respect hookers.

“Hey Molly?” Brantley called out as I was just about to step off the bus.

Hopping up the steps, I poked my head around the door. “What’s up?”

“Was that the dick mold you tossed in the oven?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” I stammered, instantly cursing Chance out in my mind. I bounded down the steps as laughter filled the bus. I was going to kill Chance when I found the little gremlin. Apparently everyone thought it was absolutely hilarious that I had a clone-a-dick mold. After I reamed Chance, Danielle was the next to get my wrath. I work with a bunch of idiots.

The first night of the tour went off without a hitch. Sure, the lighting set didn’t go according to plan, we ran out of t-shirts before the guys even took the stage, and I did lose a member of the opening act before taking off for Portland, but overall I would call it a successful night. No crazy groupies, wives, or even ex-wives were thrown in the mix and that led to a rather peaceful evening. Now if only all the shows could be that simple, I might just survive the tour without going stark raving mad. Not that I’m not mad already, just more along the lines of
Alice in Wonderland
tea party kind of crazy. Anyone in this industry had to be a little off their rocker to make it, considering at least seventy percent of people medicated themselves to just put up with the men we cater to.

Snickering to myself, I reached over and switched on the coffee pot. We were bound to arrive in Portland soon, and the guys had a meet
and greet at a radio station scheduled for eleven. Knowing it was going to take at least three pots of coffee to remove the children from their slumbers, I decided to start a pot now. This way I had the chance to enjoy a cup or two before waking the masses.

My cell phone pinged on the counter, signaling I had an email.
Grabbing the phone, I swiped the lock button over and dreaded what could possibly be in the inbox. I’m betting it’s something from NP, thus whatever I read was sure to make my morning suck. Normally when I received any correspondence from them, I either didn’t do something right or there was a change to the schedule. Groaning, I clicked on the mail app and my jaw hit the floor.

“From the Law Office of Teller and McGlenister,” I groaned.
What’s worse than work on a Saturday morning? Well, that would be my mother.

I haven’t spoken to that wretched woman or my evil sister since I bolted before the funeral. If the words spoken between the two of us that day had any inclination on how long we would go without talking to each other, then getting that damn email this morning really shouldn’t be happening. My mother was a cruel, hateful, spiteful woman, and I really couldn’t give a shit about how her life was panning out. Flopping down on the couch with a rather large cup of Joe, I continue to glare at the dreaded email taunting me.

“So
, you seem pissy. What did your cell phone do to you this morning?” Brantley spoke, reaching for the pot and pouring himself a cup.

“I take it you didn’t like the wake up yesterday?” I threw back, still scowling at the phone. Between my mother’s e
mail and a grouchy Brantley in the morning, I was pretty sure my day was officially screwed. Maybe the bus would just self-combust and save me the trouble of dealing with any more shit today.

“
Spill it,” Brantley huffed, taking a seat in one of the captain’s chairs across from me.

“My mother.”

“Oohhh………..that’s rough this morning.”

“No shit Sherlock,”
I whined, dropping my head on the back of the couch. Why didn’t I have the balls to open this stupid email? I am a stronger person than the girl who stood toe to toe with the evil bitch a couple weeks ago. I have no doubt that the shit in this email is only going to sour my mood even further, hence my apprehension to open the fucker.

“Toss it here,” Brantley stated, holding his hand out to catch the phone.

“Huh?” I questioned, giving him a puzzled look.

“Let me read it. If there is anything you really need to know, then I’ll tell you.”

My options were either let Brantley read the probable hate mail, sparing me the unneeded details of my selfish upbringing and such, or read the damn email myself and suffer the consequences. Sure, I was a stronger person, but this instance made me feel like a twelve-year old preteen getting rejected by her lifelong crush. Tossing the phone over, I cringed when Brantley caught it, immediately opening the dreaded file. I watched his face as he silently read, searching for any clues on the tone of the message. My only guess was it started out with ‘Dear my failure of a Daughter’, or maybe ‘You unforgiving little brat,” was maybe the more general tone of the email.

“So?” I pried. Brantley held up a finger
, signaling me to wait as he finished reading. Seriously, this must be some wretched shit if it’s taking this long.

“Well, actually it wasn’t bad,” he commented, tossing the phone back over to me.

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Nope. But you do have a meeting with your dad’s law firm on Monday to discuss the division of his assets.” Brantley offered a half smile, knowing damn well that was never going to happen.

Racking my brain, I tried to think what we could possibly have to go over. My father had left certain things to my sister and me in the unfortunate event of his demise, but the rest would automatically go to Mother. So why in the hell do we need to gather together in the same room to scowl at each other for an undisclosed amount of time?

“Well too bad
; we will be heading down to Sacramento Monday morning.” I laughed awkwardly.

“Yeah, it m
entioned something about a video conference if you were not able to attend.” Brantley shrugged, tossing back the remaining liquid in his cup.

“Fuck me,” I groaned, sinking further down on the couch.

“Oh come on, Molls. Forgiveness is crucial for future success, right?”

“Well, it was in our case. Since, I’m betting you still want to have more children in the future
, right? Saving the relationship with my mother and sister is scarce as hen’s teeth. I do declare failure for any future reconciliation.”

“Whatever m
akes you sleep at night.” Brantley laughed, standing up and heading back to his bunk.

“You have an hour before we need to leave,” I managed to spit out, still debating the moral dilemma in my head on forgiving the enemy.

“I think it’s a perfect time to wake Chance up then.” An evil laugh emerged from Brantley as he disappeared behind the black curtain. I really didn’t want to know what revenge he had planned for that man. However, he did share my birthday present with everyone yesterday. The bastard had it coming.

I stewed over the damn email for most of the morning, letting myself fall further into a slump of doom. Pretty sure my day was just on auto pilot, and by midafternoon I realized that people were actually avoiding me. I’ve been known to fly off the handle a time or two, so when people actually stopped and turned around when I was heading in their direction it didn’t really surprise me. Storming down the hallway, I was on a mission to find Megan and make sure everything was ready for tonight before I hit craft services. I had yet to eat anything since breakfast, and my bitch meter was already going off left and right.

“Hey Allen,” I called out, glancing down at my clipboard to check what time they were letting the crowd in the building tonight. “Oomph,” I let out while the top of my body folded over the table I was apparently not watching for. The clipboard flew from my hands and skidded across the floor.

“Son of a bitch,” I grumbled, still sprawled out on the table.

“You’re a hot mess today
, Molly.”’ Danielle poked her head out of wardrobe, giving me a smile.

Molly: 0

World: 765325

“Why me?”

Chapter 5:

Skype sex? Should I be worried about my USB port?

That stupid meeting weighed heavily on my mind the rest of the weekend. One could only imag
ine what needed to be said, and why in the world they couldn’t just send me an email stating what was my share of dad’s fortune. The only thing I wanted from the family was my car, considering I still had no fucking clue on where my family was keeping her. It really was my fault, though, since I refused to call Mother and ask her about my beloved baby. It’s a good thing I never wanted children because I would definitely suck at being a mom. I had no role models growing up, and I lost my “only child”. Some mother I would turn out to be; maybe I should get my tubes tied and save the world from another one of me……………or better yet, my sister. Yep, I’m never ever having children.

Sitting down at the small table on the bus, I pulled out my laptop and star
ted going over the next week’s schedule. Our tour was so condensed that one wrong move on my part and everything would go up in flames. Well, I doubt burning it to the ground in a literal sense is a little dramatic, but close enough to make me want to stay on my toes. I was starting to feel like a circus act; juggling dangerous things like a chainsaw, fire batons, and maybe some knives. Everyone was always looking at me to screw up, or perhaps those were just my insecurities coming into play. Most people would think I was pretty put together, minus a few meltdowns here and there. But, I swore once I got all my ducks in a row, one of the little bastards would run off. Leaving me in complete panic mode. Dealing with my old boss was one thing, being in charge of a band and tour people was a completely different kind of crazy train.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Brantley stated, immediately grabbing my attention.

“What a novel thought. I really wondered when you would start using that brain of yours again.”

“Real funny
, Molly. Anyway, how about you help me write some songs for the next album? I’m sure the label would give you writing credits, and it will be nice to work with someone that I already know,” Brantley pointed out, sliding into the seat across from me.

“I’m not a writer
, Brantley,” I replied dryly. Apparently, I was too quick to think that he was using his brain again.

“That’s a load of crap
, Molly, and you know it.”

“Brantley, I write music for me, just me. I don’t plan on making it
big or playing for sold out crowds. My songs tell the stories of my life, and I hardly think your rock lifestyle would make any sense with my lyrics.”

“That’s the point. You write from the heart, and not some made up bullshit trying to sell a million copies,” Brantley stated firmly, his eyes boring holes right through my soul.

“I don’t know what to tell you, other than no.”

“Think about it. I could really use the help, and you know what I’m working with when it comes to my bandmates. Stripper poles and motocross are not exactly chart toppers.”

“Speaking of, did you guys still want to hit up the track Wednesday after your gig in San Francisco?” I questioned, trying to redirect the conversation anywhere else but writing music.

“Fuck yeah,
” Chance commented, flopping himself down next to me and stretching his arm over my shoulders.

“Personal space
, Chance,” I grumbled, rolling my eyes.

“You kn
ow you love it when I touch you.” Chance laughed, pulling me tighter into his side.

“Only when you have been medically checked out there
, buddy, and I’m sure that hasn’t been lately. Wouldn’t want you spreading crabs around again, now would we?”

“Dude, we should stop for seafood tonight.”

Brantley and I both groaned at the same time. That was not something we ever wanted to hear in the same conversation ever again. Chance having crabs and wanting to stop and get seafood. We really needed some kind of filter between us when dealing with that baboon.

“So, do you want me to setup your laptop with Skype for the meeting tomorrow morning?” Megan asked casually.

Glancing up from my chair in Danielle’s wardrobe room, I tossed my assistant a nasty look. How in the hell did she catch wind of that debacle?

“You realize I read your emails
, too.”

“Well, I don’t really care about that meeting,” I replied
harshly, flipping the page of my magazine a little harder than I realized and tearing the rather hot and delicious Mr. December in half.

“Gosh, I love Skype. I totally had the best online sex last week with the drummer from Cravin. The things that man did to me,” Danielle rambled while pulling things from the racks.

“You what?” I gasped in shock. How in the hell did she have mind blowing sex over the internet?

“Don’t play stupid
, Molly. I know you’ve done the nasty on the phone, and over Skype is the same concept. The only benefit is getting to see one another. And yes, I mean
all
of each other.” She laughed, letting a naughty smile appear on her face.

“I know.
I just never got the whole phone concept kind of thing. Sex, to me, is a participation sport. If I have to do it alone, I don’t want to talk; just get the job done.”

“There is nothing sexier than a man telling you where to touch yourself, giving you the details on what he would be doing if he was in the room with you right then.”

“Yeah, talking takes work and I would rather just flip a damn switch and shove it in.”

“You are so romantic
, Molly.” Megan laughed, shaking her head and heading for the door.

“Romance has nothing to do with it
, Megan. Molly is a one woman USO. She doesn’t need a man to get the job done,” Danielle snickered, tossing a black shirt at my head.

“You are absolutely right
, Danielle. My only problem is what vibrator I am going to use and if it has a fresh set of batteries.” Megan and Danielle both started laughing with that last line. Weird conversations always went better with laughter.

“So why don’t you want to sit in on this meet?”

“Because it goes against everything that I stand for,” I said with a heavy sigh.

“Molly, all you have to do it sit there, listen, say yes or no, and then say goodbye. You don’t have to do anything other than that.” Danielle stopped digging through the racks and sat down in the makeup chair next to me. “I know your family is kind of psycho, and last time it didn’t go over to well……………..but…………………you can’t just walk away from it all.”

“Yeah,
I can.” I snorted, tossing the magazine up on the counter. Rubbing my hands over my eyes harshly, I tilted my head backward and stared at the ceiling. This really shouldn’t be complicated, but it totally was. “I don’t want to have to sit there, have them watch me, silently judging me for the million reasons they believe I am a horrible person. Danielle, I can’t take another go around with my mother or sister. They are miserable people and I refuse to be sucked back into that lifestyle.”

“Just because you are sitting in on a meeting does not make you like them
, Molly. Yeah, they might judge you, but what does it really matter anyway? You are an assistant manager, touring with one of the hottest bands in the country right now. So, you may not look the part of their southern heritage, but shit girl, you are one hell of a fantastic bitch. Don’t let them rain on your parade, because they don’t deserve the pain or tears you can’t give them.”

“Nothing good is going to come of this meeting,” I groaned, still fixating on the stupid ceiling tiles.

“Well, we can plop you in front of the laptop, slap some fancy makeup on, maybe a rockin yellow blazer, and some booty shorts since they can’t see your lower half.” Danielle smirked.

“What would I do without you?”

“I don’t know. Probably end up dressed like an idiot and there is also a large chance you would possibly let the weasel Brantley back between your legs. Other than that, I’m sure you would turn out okay.” She shrugged, pulling herself back out of the chair and over to another clothing rack.

“Yeah, yeah,” I rambled, flashing
a small smile. The meeting might suck, but at least I had a kickass friend to complain to afterward.

I was beginning to realize why Stephanie had her cell phone always attached to her face as I walked down the corridor looking for Allen. Why anyone could not follow direction or think for themselves was the million dollar question I would kill to solve. Yelling and shouting broke me from a rather large email of doom, instantly snapping my head up to watch an ugly event transpire in front of me.

“Hey! Flag on the play
, boys! F-L-A-G on the damn play,” I shouted while trying to shove my phone into my back pocket. Flying down the hallway as fast as my stupid feet would take me, I came face to face with Chance and the members of Pleasure Revenge getting ready to exchange blows.

“Back up,”
I threatened, stepping between Chance and Zain’s bodies. Sure, it probably was a stupid move for a short, scrawny chick like myself standing between two rather fit musicians, but when have I ever considered myself smart. “I said, back up!”

“Tell this stupid mother fucker to get his shit figured out. This is my tour
, asshole; not yours,” Chance growled, inching closer once again to Zain.

“Fuck off
, Chance,” Zain exclaimed, giving a smartass smirk to the enraged Chance. That smile almost sent Chance overboard, as I was swiftly moved aside in one swooping motion and the guys were nose to nose once again.

“Security,” I screamed, glancing around for anyone other than bandmates to help me out. I noticed two guards sp
rinting down the hallway toward us, but knew damn well they wouldn’t get here in time. I was about to witness a WWE match go down in the hallway, and I had no clue on how to break it up.

Fear is a fickle thing. My immediate response in tough situations was flight. Run like hell the other way, and pray that it doesn’t catch up with you in the end. Avoiding things at all costs has granted me survival till this point, until now. Without thinking, I chuck my phone at the back of Chance, hitting him square in the back of the head.

“What the fuck?
” Chance roared, whirling around instantly.

There I stood, looking like a little lost sheep waiting to be eaten by the big bad wolf.
Did I really just chuck my cellphone at him?

“What in the world did you throw at me?” Chance questioned, looking around for the culprit.

“Um………..my phone?” I said sheepishly, giving him a tight forced smile. At least it broke the tension between the two idiots in the pissing match.

“A phone?”

“Maybe………………”

“Oh Molly
, you are really something else.” Chance laughed, shaking his head and walking away just as security arrived.

“You guys okay here?” Bruno, one of our security detail asked.

“Yep, just tell that fucker to stay away from our girls,” Chance pointed directly at Zain, narrowing his eyes for dramatic flair. 

“This is over girls? You have got to be kidding, you immature little assholes,” I groaned, offering an embarrassed smile to the security guards. “I’m so sorry.”

“You guys go back to your dressing room, and I don’t want to see you before your set. Got it?” I threatened the members of Pleasure Revenge.

“And Cha
nce,” I yelled down the hallway, “keep it in your damn pants.”